The team moved through the clinic, rubber soled boots squeaking on the metal floor. They stayed in cover and shadow, keeping low and out of sight. They had infiltrated without incident so far, what few ADVENT troops had been guarding the entrance had been dispatched silently, the alarm had not been raised. Alien blood dripped from Moreau’s machete leaving a trail behind him.

The clinic was in a remote rural area, XCOM didn’t know what kind of research was going on here, but it was related to the Avatar Project, so it couldn’t be good. An informant had tipped them off that there was a sample here of some kind, of critical importance to the project, and they had been tasked with retrieving it.

Moreau raised a clenched fist, a gesture for the team to stop, they crouched, readying their weapons. He peeked around the corner and saw two ADVENT soldiers standing by a console, facing away from them. He unsheathed his blade slowly, advancing silently behind them. When he was in range he leaped, driving the serrated blade into the back of one, and decapitating the second as it raised its weapon to fire on him. The rest of the squad moved up, taking cover behind the console, and towards the end of the room they glimpsed the sample, a clear glass canister containing a glowing green liquid that was standing on a pedestal surrounded by machinery at the end of the room. That had to be it.

Moreau put his finger to his helmet, static hissed as a transmission from central came through on an encrypted frequency.

“That’s the sample we’re here for soldiers, grab it and evac ASAP, we’ll get it back to the lab and have the good doctor run an analysis.” Bradford’s voice echoed in Moreau’s helmet.

“Yes sir, we’ll get that sample back to you, soldiers, fan out!”

The team spread out, advancing quickly to cover the room, it was unlikely the sample would be so lightly defended, Moreau expected an ambush of some kind. To his right a heavy gunner wielding a massive chaingun lumbered forward, plates of heavy armor clanking as he walked, and to his left a scout with a long rifle took up position behind some crates, his fingers hovering nervously near his sidearm. The team of six soldiers took up position to cover him, and Moreau walked up to the sample, examining it for laser traps or pressure plates, anything that might give them away. It seemed clean, he couldn’t see any obvious traps. He prodded it gingerly with a gloved hand, then grabbed it, pulling it down from the odd machinery upon which it resided. He turned it over in his hands, the viscous liquid sloshed and bubbled, he couldn’t begin to guess at what it was.

“Central, have acquired the sample, extracting now.”

“Roger that, sending you a Skyranger.”

Moreau hefted the glass canister under his left arm and grabbed his pistol in his right hand, preparing to make for the exit. Suddenly the wall behind the heavy gunner blew inward, shrapnel and pieces of broken masonry flew across the room in a cloud of dust and debris, the gunner weathered it, turning to fire on a huge Muton who lumbered through the breach. The ugly creature bayed through its rebreather, tribal tattoos decorated its visible skin. The chaingun’s barrel spooled, but before it could fire the great creature drove a massive bayonet affixed to its plasma rifle through the soldier’s chest. It punched through his armor and he dropped his weapon, falling backwards to the floor. The rest of the team opened fire, shotguns, rifles and pistols filling the air with loud cracks and bangs as they harried the monster with bullets. It brought an arm up to protect its head, but the concentrated fire brought it down, green ooze leaking from innumerable bullet wounds as it fell back the way it had come.

“Evac, evac!” Cried Moreau, vaulting over a guard rail and making for the door with his precious cargo, the team fell back with him, guns trained on the breach.

Another Muton and two ADVENT troopers took cover, firing blindly through the hole at the retreating soldiers. One tossed a plasma grenade which exploded in a green flare, throwing the scout off his feet, he skidded on the floor, picked himself up, but was cut down by a well placed laser shot, his limp body lying motionless.

Things were getting out of hand fast, they had to get out of here. The team exited the way they had come, through the front entrance, and one of the soldiers popped a red flare, its colored smoke signaling the circling dropship.

The enemy came around the side of the building, suppressing the team with plasma and laser fire. They took cover behind tree stumps and rocks as best they could, returning fire when an opening presented itself. There was more cover in the dense forest adjacent to the clinic, but they’d never make it there without being cut down.

The skyranger’s engines kicked up dust at it came to hover a short distance away, dropping ropes to the ground. The team couldn’t move, they were pinned, and in the distance Moreau saw more reinforcements arriving by dropship. It was now or never.

He called to the soldier nearest to him, and tossed him the container of green liquid.

“I’ll cover you, make a break for the skyranger!”

“But Sir-”

“Don’t worry about me, go!”

The soldier hesitated, then nodded, dashing from cover towards the evac zone, and the other two followed.

Moreau tore off his helmet, dropping it to the ground and threw a smoke grenade behind him, the grey cloud obscuring his retreating team.

“Come and get me you ugly freaks!” He bellowed, unholstering his assault rifle and firing at the aliens on full auto, brass shell casings bouncing on the ground as he emptied his magazine. They pulled back behind the corner of the building, taking cover from the hail of bullets and chattering angrily in their strange dialect.

He pushed forward, throwing a grenade that blew away chunks of masonry, keeping the pressure on while his team escaped. He heard a hiss of static in his earpiece as the skyranger powered up its engines and flew away over the treetops, its signature whine becoming faint.

“We’ll come back for you, Moreau.”

It was a nice gesture, but he didn’t intend to be taken alive. Fuck whatever experiments these freaks would perform on him, or what tortures they would make him endure trying to get him to spill the beans on the location of the XCOM base or their known informants. He’d take a few of them down with him, they had traveled untold light years to be here today, and he’d end that journey with his machete. He dropped his empty rifle and pulled out his pistol from its thigh holster, along with his prized blade, rounding the corner of the building at a sprint. He shot the first surprised ADVENT trooper in the mouth below the helmet, and it dropped like a sack of bricks. As the second raised its laser rifle to fire on him he slashed the blade across its throat, it stumbled back, grasping at the wound as dark lifeblood flowed over its hands. The towering Muton raised its rifle, sharp bayonet glinting in the sun, and brought it down hard, but Moreau dodged the blow, and it planted deep into the soil.

He drove the machete through the beast’s jaw from below and into its brain. It slackened, and collapsed forward into the rubble. Moreau retrieved the weapon, planting his foot on the alien and pulling it free with a sickening squelch, then wiped it on his pants leg. The trooper he had cut was lying on the ground, gurgling as blood oozed from its mouth, Moreau aimed the pistol at it and shot it twice through the helmet, it stopped moving.

He leaned against the wall panting, his hands were shaking. Holy shit, he should not have survived that, God was rolling the dice in his favor today. The sound of the approaching dropship interrupted the thought, and he turned to run towards the nearest treeline. Something fired on him but missed as he sprinted between the gnarled trunks, followed by the green heat of plasma splashing against their bark. The forest was dense, perhaps he would survive this after all, they couldn’t fire at him in here. He heard shouting behind him, but soon the light dimmed as he pushed deeper into the woods, panting with exhaustion.

He had run for at least twenty minutes, as far as he could, they’d never be able to follow him. He rested against a tree, wiping sweat from his brow. He gulped lungfuls of air, adrenaline surging through his veins. He couldn’t believe he was still alive. He tapped the communicator in his ear, damn, no signal. If he could find a homestead out here sympathetic to the resistance, he could-

He listened intently, rustling? Something heavy being dragged along the ground? He raised his pistol, aiming it through the dark trees. The Mutons couldn’t fit between these trees, and the troopers were too dumb to take that kind of initiative, what could it be? Not ... oh no. It wasn’t something being dragged through the leaves, it was slithering, it must be a Viper.

He began to panic a little, pointing his pistol at every shadow and rustling leaf. Could he take a Viper on in single combat? He’d have to find out the hard way.

It was stalking him, it could be hidden anywhere in the shadowy foliage, hell, the snakes could probably climb trees for all he knew, he gripped the leather handle of his machete nervously.

A twig snapped behind him, he turned and fired blindly, the yellow muzzle flash lighting the forest like a torch for a split second, the shot echoed through the woods, they probably knew where he was already, but if they didn’t, they did now. He had encountered Vipers before, they were large creatures, with a humanoid torso and the long, winding tail of a giant snake. They could spit corrosive venom, and he had seen them use their muscular bodies to crush the life out of a soldier like an anaconda. Neither option sounded like a fun way to go, but if he had to guess, he’d say they were going to try to take him alive, he might be able to use their restraint to his advantage.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and before he could respond, a massive force slammed into his ribs, sending him crashing into a tree. He wheezed, picking himself up off the forest floor, and saw his stalker, a massive specimen, its chest covered in shiny black armor. It towered over him, its cobra-like hood flaring in anger, or maybe excitement. It hissed a challenge as its long coils undulated, and he stumbled to his feet, brandishing his machete.

“Come on then, you fuck.” He spat. It didn’t seem to speak English, but it understood the rebuttal well enough, and it began to sway like a snake preparing to strike. Moreau circled around it, his blade raised defiantly, his pistol had been knocked out of his hand by the surprise attack.

The alien seemed almost amused by his defiance, its lips curled into what could only be described as a wry smile, and its long, sinewy tongue flicked the air experimentally, smelling him perhaps. Could it tell that he was exhausted from running, or was the concept of a human challenging a Viper with a machete amusing in itself?

“Smile while you can...” He chided. “Let’s see if I can’t wipe that ugly grin off your face.”

He lunged, striking at the giant creature with his blade, but it dodged the blow easily, tripping him with its muscular tail. He fell on his face into the leaves and mud, then rolled over and sprang back to his feet.

The thing huffed rhythmically, laughing? Mocking him?

He struck again, and the alien deflected it with a quick blow to his wrist, using its tapering tail as a whip. He circled around again, looking for an opening, anything he could use to his advantage. He had lost his gun, he had no grenades left, nothing but his machete.

He feinted a strike, the alien brought its tail up to whip him again, but he was ready, he swiped the blade sideways, cutting into its soft meat. The Viper hissed in pain and surprise, pulling back into a protective coil. Moreau twirled the machete, chuckling as the creature eyed the deep gash in its tail and spat angrily at him. It had a massive plasma caster holstered on its back, but it didn’t reach for it, he must have been right in his guess that they wanted to interrogate him.

“Who’s laughing now?” He chided, resuming his circling. The alien narrowed its eyes and uncoiled, moving more warily now and affording him more space, he had made his point. Its long tongue flicked the air, and it tracked him, yellow reptilian pupils reflective in the forest gloom.

It struck suddenly, and quickly, but Moreau was fast, and dodged out of the way, the massive creature’s muscular tail slammed into a tree behind him, splintering the wood. He slashed again, cutting another gash in the alien’s fat tail. It recoiled, howling in pain and rage.

“Yeah, not such a walk in the park now, is it? How does it feel to bleed?”

He doubted the creature could understand him, but his gloating was obvious, the Viper seethed and it coiled up defensively like a rattlesnake. Moreau was no longer afraid, his hands were steady and he was hyper aware, seeing the world as if in slow motion. In his mind he was a dead man walking, his only destiny now to inflict as much hurt on this invader as possible before it would be forced to strangle the life out of him, he might die today but he would live on in its scars.

He lunged forward, intending to strike at the chubby coils, but the Viper reacted quickly, parrying the machete blow with its armored wrist, the blade bounced off the shiny black alloy, reverberating metallically in his hand. It followed through with a powerful strike to his chest, sending him sprawling backward onto the ground. The beast loomed over him, its cobra hood flaring as it opened its maw and revealed two massive hypodermic fangs, he had just enough time to roll out of the way as it struck, slamming them into the soil. It struggled, violently writhing its long body like a worm that had been cut in half, barreling into trees and kicking up leaves as it attempted to free itself.

Moreau leapt to his feet and raised the blade above his head, intending to decapitate it. Instead it brought its tail towards him, colliding with his ribs and knocking him down, dazed. He struggled to rise to his feet, a hand on his bruised ribs, and the alien pulled free using its tail as leverage. It spat dirt, glaring at him angrily. Moreau was weakening, the alien was strong and its blows were starting to wear him down, keeping one hand on his ribs he sliced at it, it recoiled in time, hovering just out of his range and hissing its displeasure.

Defiant, he beckoned, his blade raised aggressively.

“If you want me, you’ll have to come and get me.”

The Viper considered for a moment, tracking him as he walked, then struck with its fangs. Moreau raised his blade, intending to use the creature’s own power and weight to drive the machete through the roof of its mouth, but the strike fell short, from the left came the alien’s dexterous tail, a trick! It hammered his hand, the machete flew from his grip, landing in a pile of leaves a short distance away. He turned to run for it, but the Viper’s tail slithered around his waist, compressing him painfully and lifting him off the ground.

He struggled impotently, waving his legs in the air and punching the thing’s scaly skin, but the fight was over, he was trapped. He relaxed, dangling as it brought its face in to examine him. Up close the alien had a strong jaw and thick, almost human lips. Its amber eyes peered at him from beneath discolored lids, and its fleshy hood extended down its neck to the shoulders. Had he angered it enough that it would kill him? It didn’t seem that way, but he could correct that.

He punched it square in the face, it recoiled, hissing angrily, and he waved his hand, trying to dispel the pain. The alien’s jaw bone was made of concrete. It squeezed him tighter, he gasped, pushing against the smooth coil, but he couldn’t slip free. He cried out, his head rocking back as it compressed him in revenge for the punch, and it huffed again, as it had before, laughing at him.

Maybe he should jam his thumb into its eye next time, see if it laughed about that.

The Viper coiled more of its tail around him, pressing his arms to his sides. It had an odd texture, imperceptibly smooth scales, almost like soft skin lined the surface, patterned with shades of brown and yellow, beneath a layer of soft puppy fat he could feel strong, sinuous muscles flowing almost like liquid as it flexed. It would drag him back to the clinic now, and he’d be loaded onto a dropship and transported to a holding cell, where he would surely be tortured for information. He should have used that damn pistol on himself while he had the chance, now it was too late.

The creature examined him again, its reptilian eyes rolling over his body, it made him uncomfortable, like a predator sizing up a meal. Maybe it would eat him? Fair enough, he couldn’t complain, it would be better than what ADVENT surely had in store. It reached out with a clawed finger and pried at his camouflaged armor, peeling back the ceramic chest plate and tearing the fabric beneath. He flinched as he felt the sharp claw poke his bare skin under his clothing. What the hell was it doing? It reached in and tore his clothing loose, the fabric ripped, the strong fibers pulling painfully against his skin as they tore, and exposed his naked torso.

It dragged its shiny claws over his skin, leaving red welts that didn’t quite draw blood. He squirmed, dull pain flaring in his chest. It huffed rhythmically, was this revenge for the scars he had given it? These animals must be far more intelligent and emotional than anyone at XCOM had suspected.

The alien’s obscenely long and meaty tongue left its parted lips, trailing strands of thick saliva as it reached out like a tentacle to slide across his cheek, it was hot and slimy, he turned his head but the Viper held him straight, tasting the sweat on his skin. This whole situation felt ... wrong. It wasn’t killing him, it wasn’t capturing him, it seemed to be toying with him. It leaned in and pressed its soft, fleshy maw against his neck, the two sheathed fangs in the roof of its mouth pricking his skin gently as it chewed, he squirmed in its strong grip, feeling the warm saliva on his skin. It pulled back, eyelids low, and dragged its purple tongue over its puffy lips, wetting them.

The Viper reached down and unclipped some catches on its chest plate, the heavy, black metal plating fell away with a thud, releasing two weighty, full breasts that hung attractively, bouncing gently as they settled. Moreau gaped, it was ... she was ... female.

“What the fuck...” He muttered under his breath. He struggled again, kicking his legs, but she held him tighter, squashing the air out of him with her iron grip. She dropped him unceremoniously to the ground, still wrapped in her muscular tail, and maneuvered over him, her large boobs hanging above him enticingly, swaying gently as her chest rose and fell. His eyes were drawn to her belly, where twin rows of firm abdominal muscles trailed down to her navel, he noticed a slit where the groin would be on a human, slightly pink on her soft, white underbelly, it glistened with moisture in the light. His head began to cloud, what was she going to do to him? Attempt to mate with him?

He jumped as he felt the tip of her tail slither over his groin and squeeze his bulge gently, the stimulation encouraging a half erection despite himself. He noticed the gash on her tail, slightly towards the tip about half way down her body, it still leaked a slow trickle of crimson blood. She followed his gaze, her eyes lingering on the wound, then turned back to him, a sly look in her eyes.

She settled, leaning back against a tree, perched on one of her soft, fat coils as if it were a beanbag, she dragged him towards her across the ground through the leaves and twigs that littered the forest floor. She propped him upright, lounging as she examined him like a child might examine a new toy, turning him over in her tail. Seemingly satisfied she pulled him close to her, resting him on her long body so that his head was level with her wide, oddly feminine hips. She reached a clawed finger down and gently pulled apart the slit on her groin, puffy labia parted, linked by strings of viscous liquid to reveal pink flesh beneath. Moreau could feel the heat emanating from her lions on his face. He pulled his head back, but the tapered tip of her agile tail coiled up his back and around his skull, tugging it straight and forcing him down towards her.

She was really doing this? Forcing him to give her head? Were all Vipers like this, or was this some kind of rogue? He didn’t dare bite her, there was no way she had orders to do this, who knew what she might do to him in revenge, alone in the forest. She crooned, a low rumbling emanating from her reptilian vocal cords, and pushed his mouth up against her vulva. It was warm and slippery, the familiar smell began to excite him. He struggled to keep himself under control, his life was still at risk, and a surge of guilt flooded his mind. This was an alien monster, his hated enemy, to even twitch under her touch was unacceptable. He kept his mouth closed defiantly, and the Viper squeezed him painfully in a gesture of impatience. He winced as she compressed his ribs in her strong tail, and glanced at the organ apprehensively.